


Professional Care

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [50]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Angst, Sparring, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: Rex learned almost everything he knows from the brothers that raised him.  There's a thing or two he learned from Commander Bacara.
Series: Soft Wars [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 33
Kudos: 517





	Professional Care

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Veritas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23715688) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506). 



> Well here it is folks. Basically no one but me asking for it, but here it is. Thanks to Tumblr for suddenly filling my dash with 'gruff boi taking heckin good care of bruised cinnamonboi'. Good looking out, Tumblr.

Rex has a moment to meet startled eyes, a moment to think ‘did I-’ before pain lands a crushing hammer blow across his breastbone and he loses the floor under his feet.

If he blacked out it wasn’t for more than a second.

_Where’s his squad?_

_Don’t_ _think he has_ _one._ _Only seen him running_ _with the animals_ _over_ _on_ _Besh_ _range_ _._

_Then why the hell is he here?_

“ARC training is for leaders,” Rex mumbles. “Can’t learn to lead if I’m always following the Shebse.”

The voices above him pause. There’s a vice grip clamped down between his ear and shoulder and it feels like his own pulse is trying to choke him.

“Do not move,” someone orders, before Rex has even decided to try. The grip adjusts. It’s a hand. Massive, the palm covers nearly the whole column of his throat. Bracing, he realizes. He might have just broken his neck. He definitely _has_ broken something else; jagged edges of bone don’t quite line up right in his chest, and breathing deeply jars them.

Rex tries not to panic.

“With me, soldier,” the same someone orders, cuts straight through the unsteady edges of his mind and directly to his instinct. It’s a voice used to being obeyed. “Eyes up.”

Commander Bacara kneels, curves over Rex. Sweat curls fine hair along his forehead, highlights the furrows Rex thinks might be permanently grooved into his brow. He looks stern, as usual. He doesn’t look worried. Somehow that warms the icy fingers of alarm that had been creeping up Rex’s throat.

“Where are you?”

“Sir. Advanced Tactics wing, Grek range,” Rex reports. Slow, shallow breaths. It’s hard to stay calm taking shallow breaths. “ARC training. We were sparring.” He thinks. “Almost had you that time.”

Commander Bacara snorts. Someone outside of Rex’s line of sight laughs. “Note ‘some disorientation’,” he says, droll. Rex flashes him a ghost of a cheeky grin. It disappears a second later when he clenches his teeth.

They both know Rex had made it up inside Commander Bacara’s guard. They both know Rex has gotten closer to downing the Marine than any other soldier on their range. Rex just needs to figure out how to compensate for the fact that the Marine’s off-hand reflex was far more powerful than he’d estimated. Then it’ll be Commander Bacara down on the mat.

“Med droid’s tied up on one of the other ranges,” the second person reports. “If he’s not bleeding out, it says he can wait.”

Aggravation deepens the lines on Commander Bacara’s face. He’s the type that’s more naturally frowning than otherwise, Rex assumes.

“Useless,” he spits. He shakes his head, firms his jaw. “We’re not waiting. Start below the shoulder,” he orders. “Put light pressure on each of his joints. Stay away from the clavicle, that’s definitely broken. Soldier,” he turns his attention back to Rex. It’s jarring, having his full focus. It feels like he can see right through a man. “Report exactly where you feel the pressure. Report if you don’t feel anything, or if you feel anything similar to piercing pain. Report any nausea. Report any sudden dizziness. Do not move.”

Rex swallows and the motion shakes. The anxiety begins to creep back in. “Sir, yes sir.”

He doesn’t know if it’s his tone or the expression he can’t keep off his face, but something prompts Commander Bacara to soften. Just a little, he’s not a man given to softness, but the creases around his eyes ease a touch. His gaze feels less like it’s boring through Rex.

“I have you, tat1,” he says, gruff but quiet. “I’ve trained dozens of Marines and I hit them a whole lot harder than I hit you. _You_ have enough gray matter in your bucket-filler to know when to deflect instead of block. I’ve put men down harder than this and I brought them back up in time for morning drills. I have you.”

It’s maybe not that odd a comfort. The ice around Rex’s lungs recede, just a little.

“Thank you sir.”

Commander Bacara grunts, acknowledging. “Thank me when you learn to dodge. Neyo, start.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. (Journeyman Protector dialect of Mando'a) Brother. Back  
> I find it absolutely fascinating that one of the few things we know about Bacara is that he feels disconnected from his brothers, and because he was trained solo by a former Journeyman Protector he doesn't really remember traditional Mando'a only the JP dialect of it. In case anyone was wondering, this disconnect is precisely the reason why I chose Bacara as the one I plan to (eventually) show pledging to Cody. Because it's gonna be _rough_. Well. My version of rough. A very soft rough. I can't help what I am folks.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Concussions and Blankets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949109) by [Nightingalewritings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingalewritings/pseuds/Nightingalewritings)




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